


Unbelievable

by CJ_fics



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Graphic kissing, Humor, Mentions of Felicity / Ray, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 13:09:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2851943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CJ_fics/pseuds/CJ_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver Queen was the most unbelievable man Felicity Smoak has ever met and ever had the fortune to be in lo -- to be partners with. Ever!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbelievable

_Unbelievable_. Oliver Queen is the most unbelievable man I have had the misfortune to be partners and teammates with, to be friends with, be attracted to, and sorta-kinda be in love with. _Ever_.  
  
How dare he think that he can just— just — calm me down with a kiss! OK, fine. As far kisses go, it was probably the mother of them all. It was good. No, it was great. Toe-curling, fingers-gripping, eyes-closing, breath-taking, wet-in-a-good-way, tongues-twirling, life-changing great.   
  
It’s taken me a while to recover from it. And now, I’m alone in the lair while he goes traipsing off to face off a revitalised Triad. Without back-up except for Laurel Lance. _Who does that?!?_  
  
Who goes off un-prepared with hardly any intel to face off at least twenty-two Triad members by himself and only a recently trained fighting partner as backup? Who goes off on a mission after planting the hottest kiss known to the universe on his totally un-prepared Tech support person? In front of the love of his life, Gorgeous Laurel Lance, at that!  
  
All I wanted was for him to slow down and have a plan. Or at the very least, promise me that he will not die facing off the Triad for the Nth time. I wanted words of assurance from him. What I got instead was unbelievable, arrogant, cocky Oliver Queen pulling me straight out of my chair into his arms to deliver that kiss. And then leave me hanging. _Unbelievable._  
  
"Felicity, talk to me."   
  
"Ugh, Oliver. I’m not in the mood to talk to you right now. Go away."  
  
"Felicity, the mission. We’re just about to reach the Triad base in the Glades. Please."  
  
Right. The mission. His voice is coming from the comms device in my ear.   
  
"Fine," I say. Sitting back down on my chair and facing my monitors. I draw up the blueprints of the Triad warehouse.   
  
"Have you got the heat sensing cameras on?" I ask. I’m very proud of myself for sounding calm. Not breathy at all. As if he didn’t kiss me nineteen minutes ago. As if that kiss didn’t make me forget my name and birth date for a few minutes.  
  
"We’ve set it up on the roof top of the building across the warehouse," Laurel offers.   
  
"Awesome, let me pull up the feed now and match it with the blue prints. I’ll have some details for you in five minutes. Hold your horses."  
  
I perform some computer magic and the third monitor in my system and lights up with the merged heat sensor camera feed and the warehouse blue print — all in one nice screen. Sometimes, I kind of amaze myself. _I am the Queen of All Things Tech._  
  
"Right. So, the heat sensors are located on the side of the building. Most of the guards are located in the front and the back. There are approximately twelve guards guarding each of the entrances. You should probably try to sneak in through the roof as I can see no side entrances. I can only see about five people guarding the roof entrance."  
  
"All right. Thanks, Felicity. I’ll see you when this over."  
  
 _Don’t bet on it, mister._  
  
————————-  
  
Once I know that Oliver and Laurel were successful in taking down the warehouse and had left Triad members tied up with all their drug and guns shipment in plain sight for the SCPD to collect, I start collecting my things. I’m in no mood to deal with Oliver Queen right now.   
  
Now that guiding them through their stupid mission had given me enough distance from that kiss, I’ve been calm enough in the last half hour to know exactly why the kiss was so wrong. I have a list of reasons:  
  
One. I’m currently dating Ray Palmer. Ray Palmer is a great guy. Sweet and nice. And willing to be with me. It’s still casual and we’ve not done the deed, but we’re close. I really, really like him.  
  
Two. The reason why I’m dating Ray Palmer is because of Oliver Queen. I met Ray from all the meetings he and Oliver had about Queen Consolidated. Oliver encouraged me to date Ray. He said I should take the nights off from Arrow work, if I wanted to go out with Ray. And I wouldn’t have said yes to Ray’s dinner offer, if I didn’t think that moving on from Oliver was the healthiest thing to do for myself.   
  
Three. Oliver doesn’t want to be with me. Yes, there was that time that he asked me out on a date-date. A real date that would have hopefully led to a real romantic relationship between the two of us. Then he got scared, and instead of a first date, what I got was the oft-repeated line “Because of the life that I lead, I think it’s better if I’m not with someone I could really care about.”.   
  
Four. Laurel is a member of the team now. And she can kick ass like her sister. Very soon, I suspect, she and Oliver will get back together. After all, the last time Oliver told me that he didn’t think he should be with someone that he could care about, he promptly forgot that idea in the face of a Lance sister. I know a pattern when I see one.  
  
Five. I have vowed to never, ever, ever, _ever_ entertain that unthinkable idea of Oliver and me in a relationship. _Never, ever._ I’ve tried, I’ve been trying, to let go of it, to recover from it, and to tell myself that I deserve to love someone who wants to be with me.   
  
And I’ve had moderate success. I’ve started dating other men. I’ve been exclusively dating Ray for the past three weeks. I’ve only interacted with Oliver as a teammate and friend. No more staring at his abs and that V-shaped cut on his hips when he’s shirtless. I’ve been friendly with Laurel to show Oliver, her and the rest of the team that it won’t bother me when the two of them get together. It won’t change anything about my interactions with them and the rest of team.  
  
I only _sometimes_ fail in my vow when I’m by myself at home. When I allow myself to think of what-ifs between Oliver and myself. When I binge on mint chip because I know I need the sugar high to counter an impending self-pity episode. When I wonder what it would be like to kiss Oliver. How would he taste? Would his lips be chapped? Would they be soft? Would he kiss me chastely a few times before plunging his tongue in my mouth? Or would he attack with his tongue from the get-go?  
  
Well, now I know the answers to that: Like chocolate, leather, mint and expensive Cognac. Chapped but soft. Attacks with his tongue from the get-go.  
  
And I’m back at square one.   
  
I can’t be here when they get back. So I leave.  
  
————————————-  
  
I knew my reprieve wouldn’t last. I would have to face Oliver eventually, what with us being members of Team Arrow and all. But I didn’t think that it would only take fifteen minutes.  
  
My townhouse is usually about five minutes away from our new lair. But I had to make a stop at a grocer on the way home. I’m out of wine and mint chip ice cream, and I knew I would need both tonight. So it takes me fifteen minutes to get home.  
  
And spot Oliver on the steps outside my home.  
  
Maybe if I pretend I have a blind spot the size of Oliver Queen that keeps me from seeing him, I can ignore him and he’ll go away.  I head to my door without acknowledging him.  
  
"Are you going to ignore me?" he asks, quietly.  
  
I wonder if I can pretend to be temporarily deaf as well.  
  
"Felicity," he grabs my forearm. "Please."  
  
Sigh. “What do you want, Oliver?”  
  
"We need to talk. About what happened tonight," he says.  
  
 _Wow. Oliver Queen wants to talk. Is the sky still blue? Is Windows no longer a crap piece of software? Is Slade Wilson no longer evil?_  
  
"You mean when you kissed me from out of the blue?" I turn around to confront him.  
  
"Can we do this inside?"  
  
"No, you wanted to talk. So let’s talk. Is this about the kiss?"  
  
"Yes. Felicity, I —"  
  
"I know what you’re going to say, Oliver. I can tell what you’re going to say from a mile a way.  You’re going to say that you didn’t mean for it to happen. You’re going to apologise. And then you’re going to say your favourite line for me, and I quote, ‘Because of the life that I lead it’s better if I’m not with someone that I could really care about.’ Did I miss anything?" My voice has gotten progressively louder as I spoke. Good thing my next door neighbour is somewhere sunning in the Bahamas right now.  
  
He’s looking at me like I kicked his puppy. I can’t stand it, so I turn away and face the door.   
  
"If that’s all, Oliver. Then we’re done here. Good night."  
  
He grabs my shoulders and then turns me back to face him. Then he kisses me. Hard. Desperately. I’m too shocked to respond.  
  
"Kiss me back, dammit," he demands against my lips. And then he softens his kiss, his tongue coaxing my lips to part and allow him entrance. So I kiss him back. Eagerly.  
  
I know I will need time to properly describe this kiss, even to myself. Suffice it to say, that if the first kiss was life-changing, this one was paradigm-shifting. By the end of it, I just know it will take time for me to remember my name, my history, myself, the nine basic HTML lines of code, my tablet password.  
  
When oxygen becomes an issue, we part. But not too far. He rests his forehead on mine.  
  
"The only reason I’m sorry, Felicity, is because I know you’re with Palmer right now, and I know I’ve hurt you with my decision to keep my distance from you. From this. But I’m not sorry I kissed you. I’ve wanted to do that for about two and a half years now," he whispers. His eyes locked on mine.  
  
He chastely kisses me one more time and then steps back.  
  
"I want to be with you, Felicity. I’m tired of not being with you. I’m in love with you. I love you. And I want to try to see if could be the kind of man who could love you right. I think I can be. But I know you’re not free. And it’s unfair for me to do this to you now, after I’ve hurt you so much. So I’m going to wait. I’ll wait until you want to be with me. Until you want to try with me. I’ll wait for as long as you need me to wait."  
  
I nod, speechlessly. And I head inside my house.  
  
 _I need to think._  
  
——————————-  
  
Two weeks later, Oliver is having an alpha brat moment in the lair. If I didn’t know how lethal he could be with a spoon, I’d actually find it cute. Generally, I find it a bit hilarious. Big, tough, lethal guy throwing a tantrum over the fact that the team has decided I was the best person for an undercover job.  
  
The team is trying to calm him down with arguments about why I should be the one to go undercover and how they will make sure that will be safe while I do some recon. For every argument, big, bratty Oliver just says, “No!”, while pounding one of his practice dummies with his fists.  
  
 _He’ll be a really bad influence on Digg and Lyla’s kid, I know it._  
  
I head for where he is, and then step into his space. He immediately stops punching the dummy.   
  
He’s shocked, I can tell. We’ve kept our interactions to a minimum since that night. I wasn’t ready, and he was being patient.  
  
I tiptoe as I reach for the back of his head to pull him closer to me, and kiss him. An open-mouthed, tongue sneaking between his lips from the get-go, juicy kiss.   
  
I could hear Roy shout, “WTF! My eyes, my eyes!”, and Diggle quietly suggesting that they should leave the lair for a bit. But then Oliver sucks on my tongue and I forget where I am and who’s around us.  
  
After, I confirm, “OK. I want to be with you, Oliver Queen. I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic request.
> 
> Original post here: http://outoftheclosetshipper.tumblr.com/post/91348577498/could-you-make-a-fic-where-oliver-is-going-oit-to


End file.
